Together
by SilJim
Summary: After getting beaten by his father, Johnny seeks out shelter and comfort. He goes to the one person who knows how to take care of him best. MAJOR M/M - Don't like, don't read (soft core smut). Reviews are welcome.


**A/N: It makes me laugh that this is the first fic I write for "The Outsiders" (I always thought it would be a Darry/Pony fic, oh well). So just a random idea I had in my head that needed to be put out in the open. Excuse any grammar mistakes. Enjoy.  
Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Outsiders**_

* * *

He walked through the empty park. It was past 2 am, a school night. If it were a normal circumstance, if he _had_ a normal home life, it'd be better. He'd be asleep in his bed by now, the next morning's greeting would be a "Good morning kiddo, how'd you sleep?" All that loving shit.

But no... that's not how it was.

His parents argued, fought non-stop, and he was just the reminder of their once happiness. He wasn't wanted. He had no purpose. But that was home, home sweet home. It killed him, it really did. All he wanted was a look, just one look, even in distaste - that would be better than nothing. At least that's what he told himself. It was his idea of a good day. Of a happy family.

Young Johnny Cade slowly made his way along the roadside, cars occasionally drifting by him (no mustangs so far, thank goodness). His breath huffed a trail as he walked, the need for a light suddenly hit him making him pace a little faster. His arms wrapped around his waist protectively, causing him to make the slightest of flinches. The pain wasn't going away, his fingers clutched at his sides harder, he didn't think it was this bad. His strodes suddenly became faster, he was in search of someone, the one person that knew him best. Who knew what it felt like to be in his shoes. Dallas Winston. Though he may seem rough, conniving, and maybe even a touch brutal, Johnny couldn't help but feel safer around the older greaser. His aura just sent waves of comfort to Johnny, as if _he_ should be the warm and happy home he went to at night. And sometimes, if he was really honest with himself, he knew exactly how he felt about Dallas Winston. When he thought about Dallas, or heard his voice calling his name, he could feel the butterflies inside his stomach, beating their wings mercilessly until it hurt, as if leaving an imprint to remind him.

Johnny shook his head, he couldn't be thinking of such thoughts of his friend, at least not in his situation. He just needed to find him, and on nights like this, he knew where:

Buck's place.

* * *

The gravel scraped harshly against worn out sneakers as Johnny made his way to the familiar roadside home. Only being a few feet away, Johnny realized that the front door of Buck's place was open, allowing what seemed to be smoke escape from the front door. He stopped in his tracks, hesitating for a moment; _Should I knock like the other times? Was it really alright to just walk in?_ Licking his lips hesitantly, the brunette peeked his head into the doorway. Hoards of people occupied Buck's home; possibly friends, possibly wanderers. No one seemed to notice the teen slowly making his way through the front door. So far so good.

Johnny looked around the main entrance in hope to spot Dallas but no luck. Guests began shoving themselves past Johnny, causing him to grunt in pain as some hit his wounded stomach. He winced as a noticeably drunk girl accidentally rammed her elbow into his side, throwing him off balance and into a nearby pool table. He let out a loud hiss, causing the girl to turn around and mumble out a quick apology before making her exit.

Quickly resting against a worn out sofa, Johnny took a moment to catch his breath. Where the hell was Dallas? Those dark eyes darted across the room and then focused on the next door leading further into the house. He sighed, head dropping to the floor, he wasn't in the mood to push away the drunken masses.

A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, causing him to jump out of instinct. Those greasy locks whipped around to see the perpetrators face. Johnny felt relieved yet anxious all at once.

He swallowed slowly, "Golly Dallas, you scared the hell out of me."

Dallas gave an irritated scowl at Johnny, "Geez, that makes me feel better. The hell you doing here kid?" Dallas took a quick swig from a beer bottle Johnny had not noticed before, "Don't you have school tomorrow or something?"

Johnny shifted a bit in his seat, regretting it when he felt the pain suddenly burn at his stomach. His cringe did not go unnoticed; Dallas looked down to Johnny's stomach where his scuffed up hands were pressed against.

A deep sigh escaped his breath, "Fuck, don't tell me,"

All Johnny could do was nod, it wasn't the first time he came to Dally for help and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

With one last drink, the older greaser threw the bottle away from him and reached an arm out around Johnny, "Let's go kid."

He didn't need to be told twice, the brunette held onto his savior with all his strength. He wasn't going to like what he saw, but then again, he never did.

* * *

A puff of smoke blew from Dallas' mouth, "Come on let's see it."  
Johnny was seated on a bed inside a room Buck normally lent out to Dallas; the older greaser stayed standing up as if inspecting more than just the boy's wounds.

Anxiety crept inside the younger greaser: _Dammit, why am I so nervous? It's no different than before..._ Johnny slowly took off his shirt, exposing some gashes on the right side of his stomach. His breath hitched at the feeling of cool air hitting his wound, he himself had not really inspected the damage.  
Dallas' face was set in a stern glare, his cigarette in his left hand crushing between his fingers. The notorious greaser knelt down in front of Johnny, eyeing the wound much closer than needed.

Johnny slightly flinched as fingertips touched tender skin, but allowed Dallas to do as he pleased. There was no point in arguing with him.

"What did that sick bastard use this time?"

"A belt buckle," Johnny tried to say as calmly as possible, "Hit me a couple of times to get it like this."

Dallas shot up with a curse and spun around in anger. He cussed at the air, as if trying to spare Johnny his rage. It was normal, it's how he always reacted. It wouldn't be a lie if Johnny said he didn't like it, someone needed to care what happened to him, right?

Cooling down by lighting another cigarette, Dallas turned to meet those dark eyes, "Wait here, alright?"

Johnny nodded and watched Dallas leave the room. First aid kit.

A large tool box was in Dallas' hands as he entered into the room. That huge thing had been reduced to a first aid kit, what a joke. Dallas set the case down on the floor, taking one last inhale from his cancer stick.

He crushed it into a nearby ashtray, "Lay down."

It wasn't a request, but an order. Johnny could be fearing for the end of his life right now, but Dallas' words would still be the only ones that mattered. It's just how it was, protocol.

Johnny gently laid himself back on the old mattress, trying to calm down his nerves, _the beginning is always the worst part, after that it gets better._

Reaching into the kit, Dallas took out some swabs and a bottle of alcohol. Making sure the cloth was dabbed with a generous amount of alcohol, Dallas eyed his wounded friend, "Ready?"

Only a low breath escaped Johnny, he was ready.

In an instant, Dallas set the soaked swab on that tanned stomach. He watched as Johnny tensed in place, trying to hold back a shriek of pain. He didn't understand why he did this, hell, he had every right to be screaming and crying his lungs off, but that's not how Johnny was. His instincts were to hold it in until the breaking point. That's what Dallas feared the most. Johnny holding out until his death. The thought killed him.

After waiting a few seconds for Johnny to settle down, Dallas continued to rub the swab against more of the wound. He knew it was working mighty good, because Johnny continued to wince in pain. Even though he didn't orally express it, his face contorted in frustration, trying to hold back tears that threatened to fall.

After what seemed like ages to Johnny, Dallas finally ended his cleaning session and began to apply bandages to the younger boy's side. He exhaled in relief, glad that this would be all over now.

Dallas reached inside of the kit again, pulling out a container, "Here," he shook two pills in Johnny's hand, "Take two of these."

Johnny inspected the pills for a moment.  
"They're aspirins Johnny, don't worry about it."

The brunette popped the pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them; hating the taste they left in his mouth. Another sigh escaped his breath as he laid himself back on the worn out mattress.

Dallas inspected the boy; there was no way he was going to let him go back home like this. He got up to his feet, kicking the first aid kit to the side, "Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"... You're staying here tonight."

There was a moment of silence before Johnny lifted himself up from the bed, "N-Nah Dally. I'm better now, honest. I don't want to be a bu-"

"I didn't ask if you wanted to Johnny, I'm telling you you are." With that Dallas shrugged off his jacket and proceeded to get to the other side of the bed.

The younger greaser's heart raced, he didn't have the guts to turn around. _Why am I freaking out?_ he asked himself, _It's not like this has never happened before... I've stayed with him plenty of times..._

Johnny lied himself down hesitantly, hopping Dallas wouldn't notice his odd behavior. He didn't know what the hell he'd tell him. God forbid, he'd tell him the truth.

Both boys did not face each other as each tried to sleep. Dallas kept thinking about the wound on poor Johnny's body, and the future ones he would see. His worst fear was that he wouldn't be able to help Johnny, that there would be nothing he could do, and then he would lose him, forever. The thought scared him, scared him to the bone. He never felt like that with any of the girls he'd been with, not even much of the gang. Only Johnny. That's right, he was special. He was... _his_. Dallas turned to look over at the sleeping figure next to him. For awhile he just stared at the boy, wondering if maybe he should... no, no he shouldn't. The older greaser's hand fought to touch Johnny, it seemed like such a natural instinct, but Dallas couldn't let that happen. He cared for Johnny, he truly did, but he didn't want to hurt the kid. What if he didn't have the same feelings? That Dallas was just the older brother he never had? But that got Dallas to thinking: _Why should it matter now? Whenever I see something I want, I get it. I could have Johnny right now and God knows he'd let me. He owes it to me for everything I've done for him. Then why the hell... can't I do it? Why can't I just devour the kid alive right now and not feel any remorse? _It was a dilemma, it truly was. Dallas always fended for himself and didn't care what happened to the ones he used. But not Johnny... no. Never could he do that to Johnny. It would be too... cruel.

As Dallas continued to stir in his inner turmoil, Johnny lied awake on the other side of the mattress. His own thoughts consisted of Dallas, thinking that maybe it was wrong for him to abuse Dallas' friendship like this. If Dallas knew that he liked him more than a friend, would it disgust him? Or could he possibly... feel the same? Even though he tried to deny it, hope raised inside Johnny's chest, giving him the courage to turn around and look at Dallas.

Both boys were looking at each other square on.

Johnny's breath hitched, anxiety suddenly overtaking him. He was grateful that the room was barely lit, he didn't want Dallas seeing how much he was shaking. Not that it mattered, Dallas could feel the soft movements of the mattress. He let out a quiet sigh and fully turned to face Johnny.

"How you feeling kid?"

For a moment he couldn't speak, he was paralyzed by fear that he'd suddenly spill all his secrets. That he wanted Dallas more than a friend, that he ached every time he saw him. "I'm fine Dally."

_To hell with it, _thought Dallas, _if he hates me then fine. _The older greaser proceeded to scoot himself closer to Johnny's side of the mattress and then pulled him into his arms.

At that moment Johnny couldn't describe what he was feeling. He was paralyzed, but the embrace heated his body so quickly. His head was stirring with confusion and excitement.

The younger of the two tried to speak, but words just wouldn't form. So Dallas spoke:

"Don't lie to me Johnny. I'm only here for you, okay?" He leaned his head down into the crook of Johnny's neck. He gently began kissing at that bruised collarbone, "Only for you."

The soft kisses made Johnny emit low mewls of thanks. His hands instinctively grabbed onto Dallas' shoulders, allowing him to press in closer to his body. "I love you Dally."

Like a trick that phrase worked, allowing Dallas to release all the pent up emotion he had held back for so long. He planned on taking Johnny tonight, and he could feel good about it too. Because dammit, the boy loved him. That was all he needed.

A heated kiss was placed upon Johnny's lips and rough hands gently pulled at his jacket. The little greaser shifted himself to help Dallas, he wanted this, he wanted him so badly. Greedily, Dallas devoured Johnny's lips, slowly nibbling to create a new sensation for the boy. It worked like a charm, Johnny began to kiss Dallas fiercely back. His tongue slowly slid into Dallas' mouth, swiping against his teeth needily. The older greaser let out a groan of satisfaction and a small smirk graced his face. Nimble fingers made their way into Johnny's shirt and proceeded to stroke across a battered back.

Johnny broke the kiss, gasping for breath at the sharp sensation. Blush reddened his cheeks as he began to crawl on top of Dallas.

Both boys locked eyes together, as if saying to one another: I'm ready.

Dallas' hands roamed themselves up Johnny's spine, the boy was so frail. He watched as the brunette's chest moved to the motions of his hands. That old tee was thrown to the floor, exposing Johnny's bandaged stomach. He was pulled down to meet Dallas' hungry lips, beautiful noises of tongues twisting echoing in his ears.

Johnny moaned between the sloppy kisses, as he felt eager hands make their way to his bottom. Dallas' hands clenched at his behind roughly, causing Johnny to break their kiss and yelp into his neck.

Dallas continued to grope his behind, "What's wrong Johnny-boy?"

The younger greaser blushed at his lover's teasing, "I-Idiot."

Dallas laughed and continued to knead Johnny, swiping his mouth yet again. Skilled fingers fumbled onto the hem of Johnny's jeans and finally pulled them down.

Another low moan rumbled in Johnny's throat, his mouth leaving Dallas' to instead kiss at his neck and collarbone. His hips shifted as jeans pooled to his knees, loving the feeling of Dallas' rough hands rubbing his chest. Cracked nails flicking, digging in a bit deeper at his nipples. Johnny arched into the touch, shutting his eyes at every twinge of pleasure caused by Dallas' fingertips. It turned him on how little he had to do to make him submit. It turned Dallas on too, that Johnny was his now, putty in his hands. Teeth latched onto caramel skin, biting and sucking oh so eagerly. Hushed moans flooded Dallas' ears as Johnny's hand made there way to his belt. Not letting go of his neck, Dallas shifted to allow his pants to fall to the floor. Both boys wantonly rubbed clothed erections together as their make-out frenzy continued on and on. Dallas finally toppled over Johnny and watched the battered, yet erotic boy beneath him. He was beautiful, and it felt gruesome to say. The dry blood, the hickey ripe on his neck, and his cracked lips. It was all a wonderful sight to behold of the young greaser. Shallow breaths escaped Johnny as he stared longingly at his lover; it was the first time Johnny truly felt special to him, no other greaser would have Dallas as he would right now. He was and will forever be _that_ special.

A frail hand lifted to caress the older greaser's face. Dallas pressed into the touch as Johnny mumbled a sweet, "I love you."

* * *

Johnny groaned at the foreign feeling of Dallas thrusting inside him. The older greaser tried to be as gentle as possible, thrusting in with as much ease and patience as he could, but the boy was still twitching in pain.

He lowered himself to Johnny's ear, "You need to relax darling."

Johnny gave a curt nod, clasping Dallas' hands tightly while his neck was peppered with comforting kisses.

After sometime, Johnny finally began to melt into Dallas' thrusts and moans of pleasure started to overtake those of pain. Once Dallas found the oh so sweet spot inside Johnny, he was seeing stars.

Johnny groaned as Dallas gave a harsh thrust to his prostate, "F-fuck...ah!" His back arched beautifully off the bed. His eyes glossed over with lust and a new neediness he had never felt before. He wanted more, he needed more.

A ferocious mouth smothered him as Dallas' thrusts sped up. The friction, the passion, everything, it all erupted inside of the two boys and overtook their minds. There was no turning back, no way of changing this moment. They had become something more, and both knew they couldn't hide it even if they dared.

Dallas pressed deep into Johnny, his powerful gaze cemented on the boy. _You're mine, I'm yours. _He relished in the sound of his lover's climax, how he had driven him to the edge, making him feel so loved and desired.

He planted kisses on Johnny's forehead as he came down from his high, bringing him tightly into his arms.

"I love you." He mumbled.

All that was could be heard was the sound of the two panting, holding each other for dear life as if the other would be ripped away. Tears made there way down Johnny's cheeks - he felt so small yet so safe in Dallas' arms. Sincere happiness brewed inside him.

He was home.


End file.
